


First Night

by Moondreamer



Series: Fall from Grace [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: In which Malik is an incubus and Altair enters into a deal with him, M/M, demon!Malik, exorcist!Altair, some dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2014-11-19
Packaged: 2018-02-26 07:01:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2642540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moondreamer/pseuds/Moondreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exorcist Altair’s night starts badly, and it only goes downhill from there… </p><p>Malik is a demon for hire. When he is contracted to possess a girl, the last thing he expects is for a hunky young exorcist to force him out again. Fortunately, Altair turns out to be the most interesting thing to happen in Malik’s life in centuries…</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Night

The phone call came just as Altair was about to turn off the lights for the night. The female voice on the other end was tight with fear and worry, and that alone caught his attention. The case was one he’d seen before. The child had started acting strangely, even violently, for no reason that anyone could see and the mother now feared a demon possession. More often than not, Altair would travel to the distraught client’s house only to discover the “possession” was either a prank or a case of mental illness. Sometimes though, he would happen upon something different. He’d battled poltergeists, evil spirits, and even a few minor devils in his time. He was quite good at it, if he said so himself.

“If you would give me your name and address, ma’am, I’ll come around tonight to assess the situation,” he interrupted the woman’s fearful babble. Better see for himself if there was anything to the kid’s supposed possession.

He dressed himself with the dark clothes he wore while working—exorcisms were a messy business and pale clothing didn’t stay pristine very long—and grabbed his keys. As he locked the door behind him, he hid a yawn behind his hand. He thought of his bed and sighed. Unfortunately in his line of work, sleeping at night was more often than not a luxury.

The client’s house was situated an hour away from his own small apartment, in a rich suburban neighborhood. Soccer moms, workaholic dads and 2.5 children per household. The perfect life according to a good portion of white America, he thought none too charitably. 

When Altair eventually parked his old beat-up Toyota in front of the address he’d been given, a shiver of wrongness suffused his senses. Something lurked in the quiet neighborhood. Hmmm… maybe he wouldn’t have to break the news to yet another clueless family that their child was just throwing a tantrum, after all. 

After confirming the caller's address once again, Altair rang the doorbell and waited with his hands in his pockets. Footsteps announced the arrival of one of the house’s inhabitants a moment before the door was cracked open. 

“Yes?” the woman, whose voice he recognized as being the same as the one on the phone, asked.

“Mrs. Caroline Scott?” he inquired politely.

“What of it?” she replied, sounding more hostile than welcoming.

Altair wanted to roll his eyes. This wasn’t starting well. “My name is Altair Ibn’ La-Ahad. You called me an hour ago? About your daughter…”

Surprise flickered in Mrs. Scott’s expression, and her eyes traveled up and down from his black Doc Martin to his old jeans and black t-shirt, and stopped at his throat. “I thought you’d be a priest,” she finally said, probably remarking on the absence of a roman collar.

Altair sighed. It wasn’t the first time people made that mistake. “I’m not. What did you expect? The old guy from The Exorcist?”

The lady had the good grace to blush. “I thought exorcisms could only be performed by priests,” she muttered.

“I can assure you, demons have very little to do with religion. You don’t need to be a priest to fight against them.” Altair reached for a cigarette, then remembered that he’d thrown them away a month ago when he’d decided to quit. He made a face. Not only did he crave a smoke, the cigarettes gave him a certain flair that made people forget that he wasn’t even thirty yet. It made him look more… professional—or maybe he only thought that because he’d read too many John Constantine comics. It definitely wasn’t the lollipops he’d taken to sucking on instead that would help with his image. Disgusted, he buried his hands into his pockets again. “Anyway,” he went on sharply. “Can I come in? Or have you changed your mind about your daughter?” He hoped not. Not after getting him out of the house at this time of night.

After a moment of hesitation, Mrs. Scott shook her head. “No, no. Come in, Mr. er... Ibn’ La-Ahad.”

She had butchered the pronunciation of his last name, but Altair barely registered it. He just wanted to meet the kid and be done with it. When the woman stepped away from the door, he lost no time and walked inside. The foyer was impeccably clean, so much so that Altair had to wonder how a family with a young child could be living there.

Altair peered up the stairs leading to the second floor. The unwholesome presence he had first felt when he’d parked outside was stronger there. “I suppose your daughter is upstair?”

The woman nodded. “We put her in her bedroom. Do you… do you really think you can help her?”

Altair gave her a soothing smile. “You called the right person, ma’am. I’ll get your daughter back to normal.” He knew what the clients wanted to hear. Whatever he really felt about the task at hand, it was always a good idea to reassure them of his competence.

As he followed Mrs. Scott to her daughter’s bedroom, Altair did his best to school his features into neutrality. In truth, he wasn’t sure what he’d find once he got there. In the two years since leaving his old mentor and striking it on his own, he had never felt anything close to what emanated from that room. He fingered the piece of white chalk he always kept in his pockets for his exorcisms and told himself it would be fine. There was nothing he couldn’t face. Nothing he couldn’t do.

“She’s sleeping now,” a nervous Mrs. Scott said when they reached the bedroom’s closed door. Altair noticed that someone had installed a heavy padlock on the outside of it. He perked an eyebrow at the sight, but made no comments as Mrs. Scott took a key from around her neck to unlock it.

“May I have a moment alone with her?” Altair asked, mindful of the fact a mother might feel uncomfortable at the idea of leaving a male stranger alone with her child.

Mrs. Scott, though, only looked relieved that she wouldn’t have to come inside with him. “Yes, yes, of course.” She licked her—perfectly painted—lips. “I’ll be nearby if you, huh… need anything.”

Once again, Altair inclined his head, before pushing the door open and walking inside the dark room. Better waste no time in finding out what kind of demon he was facing. It took his eyes a few moments to adapt to the lack of light. The small twin bed, with its fairy-tale-like canopy of white gauze, slowly came into focus, and so did the white dresser and mountain of stuffed animals in one corner. A girl of about seven slept in the bed, her small chest rising and falling with each breath. If not for the presence Altair could still feel, stronger than ever, nothing in that room would have alerted him to the child’s possession.

“Alright, let’s see what I’m up against,” he muttered to himself as he switched on the lights. He wanted to see what he was doing, even if that ended up waking the kid up. But the girl didn’t utter a sound or moved a finger. She lay in bed, small and innocent, and only Altair’s _other_ senses allowed him to see the shadows hovering over her. 

He took the piece of chalk out of his pocket and went to work drawing the correct wards on the floor around the bed. He wasn’t yet half-finished with them when he was suddenly thrown back by some unseen force. Altair landed on his back, the breath knocked out of him, as the shadows around the girl rose and coalesced into a humanoid shape.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” a voice, low and strangely accented, said from somewhere above Altair. “A novice.”

Altair groaned as he cautiously opened his eyes. The first thing he saw were a pair of bare feet about a yard away from his head. Those feet appeared relatively human, although the talon-like toenails looked sharp enough to render flesh—now, that was an unappealing thought. The legs those feet were attached to were, of all thing, clad in flowy black silk. Silk pajama bottoms? Altair focused of them for a moment, bewildered, before trailing his eyes higher.

The demon’s chest was bare, golden brown skin covering well-defined muscles, and its shoulders wide and strong. Altair’s eyes rounded when he next noticed the stranger’s features. Again, it looked human—mostly—but sported short rounded horns on each side of its forehead and its eyes shone blood red.

And what kind of demon grew a goatee, Altair wondered illogically.

“Lost your tongue, novice?” the demon said with a smirk.

Altair blinked.

“Well?” 

“Wh—What are you?” Altair stuttered.

The demon perked one graceful eyebrow at him. “Aren’t you an exorcist? Can you really be this clueless? I’m a demon. De. Mon. Now, a better question would be to ask me ‘who’ I am.”

Alair touched the back of his head, where it had hit the floor. The spot felt a little tender, but nothing bad enough that he could realistically be hallucinating this conversation. He carefully got back to his feet. “Who are you then?” he heard himself ask bemusedly.

The demon smirked, showing some quite pointy teeth and what looked to be fangs. “Here, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?” It took a bow, sarcasm nearly dripping from its posture. “You can call me Malik. As for my True Name, your human throat would be unable to pronounce it.”

Malik. The demon was called Malik. This was a first. Altair couldn’t remember ever meeting a demon with a name before—actually, he couldn’t remember ever meeting an actual demon, although he knew they existed. He might just be out of his depth here. 

The demon—Malik—cleared its throat. “Now it’s only polite that, when someone introduce themselves, you do the same. What’s your name, human?”

Altair opened his mouth to answer, before his mind caught up with what he was about to do. He snapped it shut again and instead sneered at Malik. “I’m not about to tell you my name and allow you to gain that power over me,” he finally said. At least he remembered that much from his years training with the old man.

Malik chuckled. “You might have more brains than I gave you credit for after all.” 

This was getting out of hand. Oh, who was he kidding? He’d lost control of the situation the moment the demon had materialized in front of him. He needed to regain the upper hand, and fast. “Why are you possessing this girl, demon?” he asked. He refused to use its name, as it would humanize it too much.

“Girl? Hmmm…” Malik looked back toward the bed, as though it had forgotten about the child still lying there, immobile and helpless. Altair could have sworn he saw a flicker of surprise cross the demon’s expression, but it was just as quickly gone. “Oh, her. Because I was contracted to do so, of course.”

“Who contracted you?”

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that. Client confidentiality is part of the standard contract.”

“Client confidentiality?” Was Malik a demon or a lawyer? Not that there wasn’t that much difference between the two.

“Of course. Who would ever hire me if I couldn’t at least guarantee confidentiality?”

“What the hell are you? Some kind of demon-for-hire?” 

“Tsk. Definitely a little slow on the uptake there, novice. That’s usually the way demon possession work, you know: we get contracted; we do the deed.”

Altair gritted his teeth, feeling his temper flare dangerously. He couldn’t let that damn demon get under his skin like that. Calm. He needed to keep his calm and complete his exorcism. In any case, whoever had “contracted” the demon was none of his business. The family hadn’t hired him to play detective. He dug into his pockets again and pulled out the plastic baggie in which he kept his salt. Erasing the demon from his consciousness—or at least doing his best to do so— he began to sprinkle salt around the room, gathering into himself to complete the ritual and end the possession.

“Is that salt?” Malik’s amused voice cut into his concentration. “Table salt?”

Altair’s eyes snapped open again, and he glowered at the demon. “Purified sea salt, actually.”

Couldn’t it keep quiet so that Altair could finish what he’d come here to do? Was it really too much to ask?

“And you truly expect it to work against me? I’m almost insulted. I’m no simple poltergeist.” The demon shook its head and chuckled. “Whoever taught you evidently forgot to mention a few things. Novice.”

Malik took a step toward Altair, who backpedaled so fast he nearly lost his balance and ended up on his ass again. 

“Skittish…” Malik took another step, then another, until Altair found himself trapped between the demon and the wall. When Malik leaned down so his mouth almost brushed against Altair’s temple, Altair grew utterly still, his heart pounding. What now?

“Hmmm,” the demon growled low in its throat, making Altair shiver from head to toes. “I like you. You have balls, if nothing else.”

Unexpectedly, Altair felt a hand press between his legs and he bit his lower lip not to yelp. To his shame, he felt himself react to the touch, as unwanted as it might be. What the hell was wrong with him?

“So tell me, novice. What would you do to save this child?”

“I—” Altair licked his lips to hide the fact his voice shook. “I was hired by the family to perform this exorcism.”

“This doesn’t answer my question. So what would you give to save her?”

Altair’s brain was running empty, overwhelmed by the demon’s close proximity, but he still managed to answer, “This girl’s innocent. I don’t know why you were contracted to possess her, but she’s only a little kid. I’d do… I’d give...” He frowned. This was certainly some kind of trap, but he couldn’t think of a reason to walk away from the girl without doing all he could to help her. He looked the demon straight in the eyes, in spite of how unsettled their color made him. “What would it take for you to leave her alone?”

“Ahhh, now you’re starting to understand.” Malik smirked a fangy, evil smirk. “I could be convinced to get into a new contract.” It trailed a sharp claw-like nail down Altair’s cheek.

Altair gulped, but fought to collect his wits. “Contract? With who?”

Malik rolled his eyes. “With you, of course. And that should be, ‘with whom’ not ‘with who’.”

 _Huh?_ Altair had to be have hit his head harder than he’d realized. Had the demon just corrected his fucking grammar? And still, it was watching him with that same insufferable smirk. He shook his head. Stay focused. “Making a contract with a demon’s a really bad idea,” he snapped.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Malik replied, almost gentle. “Then I’m afraid I’ll keep possessing the girl until my client is satisfied with my work. Unfortunately, for a child that young this could well be fatal. Their little bodies simply can’t cope with a demon’s full power for long.”

“You can’t!” Altair exclaimed, appalled. “She’s just a little kid.”

“I can’t?” Malik shook his head. “I’m a demon, novice. We aren’t known for being merciful. I _can_ and _will_ fulfill the contract to my client’s satisfaction. If the kid dies, she dies. I couldn’t care less.” He paused, eyes boring into Altair’s. “Or we could form a new contract, you and I.”

“And you’ll leave the kid alone?”

“For the right price.”

The right price. Of course. 

“What kind of price are we talking about, here?” Altair asked warily. He certainly wouldn’t be selling his soul to any demon.

 _Even if it means the girl will die?_ the little voice in his head chimed in. He made a face. He couldn’t think that way. He didn’t even know if the demon said the truth about the girl’s life being in danger. It wasn’t something he had come across while studying with the old man.

Altair tried to move away from Malik, gain some distance so he could think more clearly, but the demon wasn’t ready to let him go. Altair found himself caged between the demon’s arms as it moved even closer—so close he could feel its body heat even through his clothes. 

“Nothing you can’t give me,” Malik all but purred.

Without knowing why, Altair shivered. “I’m not selling my soul to you,” he snapped back.

Malik laughed at this poor show of bravado. The sound traveled down every one of Altair’s nerve endings, leaving him lightheaded and—for some reason—slightly aroused. 

“I have no need for your soul, novice.”

“What do you want then? I have no money—”

“Nor your money,” Malik interrupted him.

“Then what?”

“As I said, nothing you wouldn’t be willing to give me. I’m a reasonable demon, after all.”

Faster than Altair could react, Malik grabbed one of his wrists and brought his hand between them. There was a flash of pain when the demon ran a clawed nail along his palm, and blood pearled on his skin. Altair stared at it for a long time, speechless.

He wasn’t about to broker a deal with a demon, was he?

“So, do we have a deal?” Malik asked.

He was, so God help him.

“You’re going to leave this girl and her family alone from now on?” he asked, wanting to be sure it would at least be worth it for his client.

“They will never have to fear from me again,” Malik promised.

Altair felt more than a little shaky when he finally said, “Then we have a deal.”

Malik leaned over Altair’s hand, and Altair gasped when he felt the demon’s warm, wet tongue begin to lick the blood off his palm. _Oh God..._ “Wh—what are you doing?” And why did he feel like his knees were about to give up?

Malik’s lips pressed against Altair’s palm for an instant—he couldn’t have dreamt that, could he?—before the demon took a step away, finally freeing Altair to move away from the wall. When Malik smiled, blood—Altair’s blood—had reddened his teeth. “Our contract has been sealed.”

Smoke swirled around the demon. “Wait,” Altair cried out. “What about the agreed price?”

By then, Malik was nothing more than a dark shape hovering in the middle of the bedroom. “I will come collect it soon enough, don’t worry.”

And then, the demon was gone, as though it and Altair had never shared the same space and breathed the same air.

A child’s soft moan snapped Altair out of his daze. The girl was waking at last. Now, Altair wanted nothing more than tell the mother that he was done with the exorcism and get the hell out of there. He forced himself to walk to the bedroom door, open it and slip outside. Mrs. Scott was pacing down the hall, but stopped dead in her tracks when she caught sight of him. Her scared but hopeful look said it all.

“It’s done,” Altair said wearily. “Your daughter will be fine now.”

A single tear slid down the woman’s face before she broke into a run and hurried to her daughter’s bedside. Altair cleared his throat. He always hated that part of his work. “About my payment…”

Without even looking at him, Mrs Scott gestured back toward the stairs. “I left an envelope with money on the table beside the front door,” she said, before turning all of her attention to her daughter.

Altair sighed, knowing he’d been dismissed without even a “thank you”. “I’ll let myself out then,” he grumbled as he left. Fortunately, as promised the money was waiting for him and it was quite a little more generous than the amount he’d asked for. This did a lot to soothe his temper and confirm that he’d done the right thing back in that room.

Still… He wondered how screwed he was.

As soon as he stepped out of the Scott household, Altair reached into his pockets for a cigarette, remembering too late that he’d stopped smoking a month ago. Again. He swore.

He really needed a smoke.

*****

The old tome documenting all the known demon species weighed a ton. It also held its share of bad memories for Altair, and he had thought more than once about getting rid of it. He hadn’t once consulted it since fleeing the old man’s house, but he had no choice now. Somewhere on the drive between the client’s house and his own apartment he had realized something very important. When Malik—no, he shouldn’t be thinking of the demon by its chosen name—had turned the conversation away from _what_ he— no, not he… it was an “it”, not a “he”; Altair could never forget that—was to _who_ it was, Altair had lost the opportunity to learn just what type of demon stood in front of him. A lapse in judgment that could cost him big time now that he’d made a deal with it.

_Idiot. I’m such an idiot!_

He flipped through the pages quickly, searching for anything that looked similar to his demon. Several times, he stopped to read a few paragraphs, only to conclude that wasn’t it. That is, until he reached the entry devoted to incubi. “Well fuck,” he said out loud while he read.

He’d made a deal with a fucking incubus. A demon known to feed off sex, pleasure and pain. Also not the kind of demon usually found possessing children. They went for the young adults— sexually mature, healthy, and horny.

_Just like you, eh?_

“I’m so screwed,” Altair said out loud, then winced at the unintended pun he’d just made. Screwed was maybe not the best term to use right this moment. For the third time that night, he reached for a cigarette before remembering he had none. Swearing, he instead grabbed the bowl of sweets he kept close at hand for just such cravings and began angrily sucking on a cherry lollipop.

What to do? What to do?

Any thought of sleep now gone from his mind—there was no way he was going to sleep when dreams were one of the ways incubi came to humans—Altair got up and started pacing. He had to find some way to break the contract before the demon came to claim his price. He stopped in front of the book case holding his personal collections of demonology books and picked a few of them to bring back to the kitchen table. Surely, somewhere in one of those books he would find a solution to his present predicament. 

For the next hour, he poured over his books, furiously taking notes on every detail that might be of use. There wasn’t much, unfortunately. Exorcists weren’t supposed to make deals with demons in the first place, so his books said very little on how to get out of one of them. He refused to believe his situation was hopeless, though, and kept searching. 

His notes blurred in front of his eyes. Altair shook himself and yawned. Suddenly, it was all he could do to keep his head up, but now wasn’t the time to be falling asleep. Yet he found himself nodding off again only minutes later. He thought about getting coffee but the idea of getting up was just too much at the moment.

He was so tired. Maybe closing his eyes for a few minutes would help. He doubted he would really fall asleep sitting up.

*****

Altair woke up with a question on his lips and warm, wet heat engulfing his quickly hardening cock. “Wh—” His voice broke when fingers pinched one of his nipples hard enough to make him gasp in pain. He felt sluggish, disoriented, and arousal was like a slow-burning fire in his gut. He lay on his back on a soft mattress—his own bed?—and didn’t understand how he’d gotten there. He’d been working at the kitchen table when the weight of exhaustion had crashed on him. He thought he must have fallen asleep with his face in his books, but that didn’t explain— 

_You’re thinking too much, novice,_ Malik accented voice echoed, seemingly directly into Altair’s mind as the wet heat never left his cock.

The incubus, it was _here_. 

_It? Are you calling me an ‘it’? How rude of you, novice._ Malik laughed, the not-quite-sound itching inside Altair’s brain. _But you’ll see very soon that I’m definitely male._  


Malik’s fingers twisted Altair’s nipple again, sending another jolt of pain-pleasure directly down to his cock and making him swallow a groan. The mattress creaked and Malik settled his—its… his—weight more comfortably across Altair’s legs.

Altair desperately wanted to jerk away from the incubus, but the sluggishness he’d felt after first waking up hadn’t dissipated. It was as though he was trying to swim through honey. Warm, sticky-sweet, cloying. And through it all his arousal was being fanned by Malik’s lips around his cock and— _God… fuck_ —taking him deeper into his mouth, to the point where he could feel himself hit the back of Malik’s throat. 

_Don’t try to fight it. Just feel._ Malik’s words pulled Altair farther down the rabbit’s hole of pleasure he’d fallen into. He knew what the demon was doing, had read enough about incubi in the last few hours to understand the spells they used. But that didn’t make it any easier to resist them.

“S—stop… please,” he half-moaned, half-pleaded.

Surprisingly enough, Malik’s mouth withdrew from his cock, leaving behind only a feeling of incompleteness and the chill of the air on his wet and too sensitive skin. Malik shifted his weight again and a second later his face appeared in Altair’s field of vision. As their eyes met, Malik licked his wet-with-spit-and-precum lips and gave Altair the most sinful-wicked smile. 

“I don’t think you really want me to stop,” Malik said, wrapping his fingers loosely around Altair’s erection. He gave it one lazy tug and it was enough for Altair to arch his hips off the bed and moan. “See?”

“Fuck you,” Altair hissed when he could find his voice again.

Malik chuckled. “Such a potty mouth, novice. I should find a better use for it, I think.” He leaned forward and captured Altair’s lips for a devouring kiss. At first, Altair tried to keep his mouth shut and not let Malik take that from him too, but there was no way he could resist for long. Malik’s will was simply too strong and his kiss too insistent. With a rumbled groan, he gave up the fight, and Malik’s tongue slipped past his lips to invade his mouth.

Their kiss was more a battle of will than a passionate moment, and Altair tasted blood after Malik bit his lower lip when he tried to pull away. Malik growled, the sound and vibration traveling across Altair’s senses like wildfire. He must be losing his mind, as he found himself answering the demon’s kiss with growing desperation, needing more. When Malik finally pulled back, Altair’s eyes were crossing and he desperately tried to catch his breath.

Malik smirked, using both hands to push Altair’s thighs upward and apart. Altair had no voice—and no will—left to protest the manhandling. Rock-hard and now aroused beyond reason, he could only watch as Malik slid two fingers into his own mouth and started sucking on them, and holy fuck that was the filthiest thing Altair had ever seen. He thought he could come just watching Malik suck on his own fingers that way. 

His eyes boring into Altair’s, Malik brought his fingers down between Altair’s ass cheeks and pressed against his hole, running his other hand down Altair’s chest and stomach. He leaned down to nip at Altair’s neck with a hint of fangs, while his fingers kept circling and pressing against his hole, never quite entering. Altair began to squirm, knowing what was likely coming and unsure how he felt about it. He’d been with both men and women before, but he usually didn’t like bottoming. The few experiences he’d had weren’t particularly good ones.

“Now, why don’t you tell me your name,” Malik said, pushing his fingers a little harder against the ring of muscles, but not yet penetrating him.

“No,” Altair replied, grounding his teeth to stop the whine he felt building in his throat.

“Hmph.” Malik bit into his shoulder muscle as punishment for his answer, and Altair groaned. But even that pain came across as pleasure to his addled senses. “Your resistance is admirable, but ultimately useless. In the end, you’ll give me your name—and everything else I want. You’re already mine, novice. You’ve been mine from the moment you agreed to the contract. Your life for the girl’s.”

Altair shook his head, unable to find the strength to do anything more. His limbs still refused to obey him; he felt like a rag doll, completely in Malik’s control. “You said you didn’t want my soul,” he protested. 

“Who said anything about your soul? And here I thought you’d read about incubi...”

Altair opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment Malik finally pushed two slick fingers past his puckered entrance and all the way inside him, the burn of their sudden intrusion stealing his breath away. His answer transformed into a gasp as he threw his head back and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. 

“That’s it,” Malik urged him, scissoring his fingers to loosen up the tight muscle. Altair moaned, his hips arching off the bed. “You’ve done this before, I see.” He chuckled. “So responsive…”

Altair still couldn’t believe this was truly happening. Couldn’t believe Malik was now fingers deep in his ass and he was helpless to stop it. All he could do was moan and mentally plead for release. He felt like drowning. Malik crooked his fingers up so he could rub against his prostate and pleasure shot through Altair’s senses, leaving him panting and writhing under the onslaught of sensations. The slap on his inner thigh, sharp and painful, caught him by surprise and he yelped.

“Don’t move,” Malik hissed, stopping everything.

Altair immediately froze, forcing his muscles to stillness. He didn’t want to be hit again. And he wanted—needed—Malik to move his fingers.

“Good.” He still made no move to continue, keeping completely still.

A minute went by. Two. Altair started squirming. “Please,” he eventually whispered.

Malik perked an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Shit… Malik, please.” 

“Do you want me to continue?”

Altair nodded, desperate for a release of some sort.

“Tell me your name, then.”

He shook his head. He couldn’t… couldn’t let the demon have that information.

Malik snorted. “Stubborn novice.” He removed his fingers, which made Altair whine in protest. They were replaced a moment later by something much bigger as Malik positioned himself between Altair’s sprawled thighs, hooking his legs over his shoulders. He spit into his hand and coated himself with it, before leaning close and brushing his lips against Altair’s temple.

 _Ready?_ There it was again, Malik’s voice inside his head.

 _Fuck!_ Altair thought, then cried out as Malik guided himself inside him in one long, unrelenting push. He was too big, and Altair felt as though he was about to be split in half. But even that pain and discomfort weren’t enough to chase the mind-numbing haze of arousal from his mind. 

Malik gave him a few moments to get used to him, before he began to move. Watching, always watching him, Malik pulled back until only the fat head of his cock was still inside, before thrusting back in. Altair’s mumbled prayer had Malik smirking. 

“Look at you, taking my cock as though you were born for it.” He shifted on his knees to find the right angle. When Altair gasped—the friction against his prostate was too much—Malik picked up speed and set a relentless rhythm, making Altair see stars each and every time he hit that one spot.

He was fucking losing his mind with the need to come—please let him come. He couldn’t take much more of this.

Malik—demon that he was—used one hand to wrap around the base of his cock, and _squeezed_ , forcing Altair’s budding orgasm back. Altair sobbed in frustration.

“Your name,” Malik asked for the third time. “Give me your name and I’ll let you come.”

He continued fucking Altair hard and fast as he waited for an answer. By then, Altair had forgotten everything but the pleasure threatening to drown him. He needed release more than he’d ever needed anything in his life. “Altair,” he panted. “My name’s… Altair.”

“Altair…” Malik seemed to savour the name for a few moments, before he said, “Come for me then, Altair. Say that you will.”

His next thrust was strong enough to push Altair up the bed, and his head smacked against the headboard. He barely registered it. Hell, he could barely hold on to his sanity, feeling like he was about to shatter into a thousand little pieces at any moment now.

“Give it to me,” Malik repeated, more insistent. “Say it.”

Between moans, Altair managed to gasp, “Yes. God, yes,” too far gone to even realize what he was agreeing to.

Triumph radiated from Malik’s expression as he leaned forward to bury his face in the crook of Altair’s neck. His hold on Altair’s cock loosened somewhat, and he started jerking him off as he continued thrusting into his ass. Suddenly, he bit down hard. There was pain, and heat spread from the bite site to every cell of Altair’s body, followed by a strange kind of pull. The sensation was unlike anything he’d ever felt and it pushed him over the edge.

Orgasm ripped through him, taking everything with it. Deaf and blind to the world around him, Altair thought his heart might have stopped for a few beats while he spilled his seed all over his and Malik’s stomach. He didn’t even have enough breath left to scream, and his mouth dropped open soundlessly. The French called it “La petite mort”—the little death—and he hadn’t understood the meaning of it. Now, though, he did.

When he eventually stopped shaking and his room returned into focus, he blinked slowly and watched Malik pull away from his neck with a satisfied smile. “You did well,” he said. Gently, he pulled out and unhooked Altair’s legs from his shoulders to lay them back down on the bed.

Altair opened his mouth to say something, but his brain still didn’t work. Exhaustion was settling in now, heavy as lead, making it hard to even keep his eyes open. He felt completely drained and on the verge of passing out.

Malik brushed his lips against Altair’s and ran his fingers along his cheek almost tenderly. “Sleep now,” he advised. “You gave me much.”

The pull of oblivion was too strong and Malik’s words made it impossible to resist it. The last thing Altair remembered was Malik rolling off him and the loss of his warmth.

*****

Altair woke up, long after dawn, with a pounding headache and a parched throat. He lay in bed for a long moment, trying to gather his thoughts. Had he been drinking the night before? This certainly felt like one hell of a hangover. But he wasn’t much of a drinker, and he would remember getting drunk, wouldn’t he?

Then memories of the night before came back to him in flashes. The exorcism. Malik appearing in his apartment. _Malik!_ He sat up too fast and his vision swam. He grabbed his head with a groan and waited for the world to settle down again. Only then did he give his room a careful once-over. Nothing appeared amiss. It was as though the demon had never been there at all. Could he have dreamed it all?

In any case, it was all over now and Altair had kept his soul intact. He ran a hand through his toussled hair and sighed. He was sore and badly needed a shower. Once he was sure his legs would support his weight, he got up and made his way to the bathroom. He stopped dead when he saw that the door was closed and frowned. He never closed the bathroom door. Why was it shut now? He reached for the doorknob, but it started turning just as he was about to grab it.

Altair jumped back as the door opened, and his jaw dropped. Malik stood on the other side, wearing nothing but one of Altair’s bath towels around his narrow hips. Somehow, he’d made his horns and claws disappear, and if not for his blood-red eyes he would have looked human. His skin still glistened with droplets of water, telling Altair that the demon had been using his shower.

“You didn’t think you’d be rid of me this easily, did you, Altair?” He smiled wickedly at Altair’s dumbfounded expression. “You’re mine now, and I like to keep an eye on what belongs to me.”

_Wait, what?_

**Author's Note:**

> I consider this to be some kind of serial. It started as a PWP deal. Unfortunately, the characters wouldn't let go until they told me all of their backstories and I realized there was much more to their story. So... there should be more in the future.


End file.
